


Simpler Times

by AngryCapper



Category: Zootopia
Genre: Gen, War, Zistopia, greentext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryCapper/pseuds/AngryCapper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Zistopia Greentext. During the war, predators had no collars, and a certain Rabbit shared a foxhole with a Fox in the face of death. Can they survive the attack?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simpler Times

**Author's Note:**

> A greentext written for fun, for /ztg/ on 4chan.

>”Why aren’t they letting us light fires again? Hopps?”  
>Trotsky poked the rabbit on the left foot twice with the butt of his rifle.  
>”H-Huh? Trots what is it?”  
>”Why aren’t they letting us light fires? Food so cold it’s practically ice.” The fox held up his can of rations to emphasize.  
>”Purrussians would see the smoke. They’d shell us. Again.”  
>”They already shell us every night.” Trotsky grumbled, he set the can on the side of the foxhole.  
>The fox peeked his head from out of the foxhole  
>A thunderous crack made him duck instantly, the Rabbit grabbed his rifle.  
>”They’re shelling us! Get to cover! Get to cover!” A Lion roared over the explosions.  
>Hopps saw the hill opposite to them light up like a christmas tree.  
>”Shit.” He managed to say  
>Trotsky grabbed the rabbits shoulder and threw him down to the bottom of the foxhole  
>The ground around them kicked up as high caliber machine gun rounds smacked against the frosted dirt  
>”Why are they attacking now! I need to take a shit!” Trotsky yelled over the gunfire,  
>”Don’t tell me that, tell the screamers!” Hopps yelled back, “Get ready! They’re bound to come at us!”  
>The Rabbit took off his helmet and raised his ears, though the explosions and gunfire, he heard the thud of feet.  
>He dropped his ears and slipped his helmet back on.  
>”Screamers!” He yelled, Trotsky echoed his words. Soon, down the line, mammals were relaying those words to other foxholes.  
>The gunfire and shelling stopped.  
>A second of silence.  
>Then a wall of high pitched screaming.  
>Hopps looked over the edge of his foxhole, rifle ready, seeing the hundreds of Purrussian domesticated felines.  
>The freaks.  
>The Rabbit leaned back down into the foxhole and grabbed the one thing they were storing for a rainy day.  
>A machine gun, 900 rounds per minute of death.

>He quickly deployed it’s bipod on the dirt in front of him and squeezed the trigger.  
>The thin line of mammals opened up, their gunfire louder than the screaming of the felines.  
>Trotsky fired his own rifle, but it wasn’t long til he yelled something at Hopps.  
>Hopps couldn’t hear over his machine gun.  
>Trotsky picked up the smaller rabbit and threw him out of the foxhole.  
>”What?!” Hopps was bewildered, the only reply was a dull crack and the shower of dirt over him coming from the foxhole.  
>”Trots!” He took out his handgun, “Trotsky!”, he fired into the crowd of felines  
>”Lem!” Hopps heard panic in his own voice.  
>He looked over into the foxhole, taking his eyes away from the battle.  
>A fatal mistake.  
>He heard the screaming of a nearby feline that had somehow gotten close.  
>He saw those razor sharp claws and those dagger like teeth  
>Hopps was going to die.  
>Until a blur of red and camouflaged white stepped in front of him, a strong paw pushed him down into the foxhole  
>He heard growls, screaming and yips  
>”Trotsky!” Hopps yelled, getting up.  
>Half a bloody feline throat was thrown into the foxhole, hitting the rabbit in the chest.  
>A second later a familiar fox dove into the foxhole, his face bloodied, with scratches on his chest.  
>”Lem you crazy bastard!” The happy rabbit got to work, taking out his small medkit.  
>He put bandages on the Fox’s chest, and shook the helmet of his friend, “You crazy bastard!”  
>The fox said something, but Hopps couldn’t hear, he leaned closer.  
>”I shit my pants!”  
>Hopps erupted into laughter, “Least it’s not your guts!”

…

>Decades later, in more complicated times.  
>“Joey, why don’t you help our fox friend find Wing #2? I’d do it myself but I’m a little senile.”  
>“Sure thing pop-pop!”  
>Grandpa smiled, watching the fox go.  
>Another fox standing with a rabbit.  
>They’d be unstoppable.  
>Hopps and Trotsky were.


End file.
